[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第22部分

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then　burst　out；　looking　out；　too；　upon　Russell　Square　
and　Southampton　Row；　and　at　the　passersby；　“Ah；　if　only　
one　could　get　every　one　of　those　people　into　this　room；　
and　make　them　understand　for　five　minutes！　But　they　
must　see　the　truth　some　day…　。　If　only　one　could　MAKE　
them　see　it…　。”　

Mary　knew　herself　to　be　very　much　wiser　than　Mrs。　Seal；　
and　when　Mrs。　Seal　said　anything；　even　if　it　was　what　Mary　
herself　was　feeling；　she　automatically　thought　of　all　that　
there　was　to　be　said　against　it。　On　this　occasion　her　arrogant　
feeling　that　she　could　direct　everybody　dwindled　away。　

“Let’s　have　our　tea；”　she　said；　turning　back　from　the　
window　and　pulling　down　the　blind。　“It　was　a　good　meeting—
didn’t　you　think　so；　Sally？”　she　let　fall；　casually；　as　
she　sat　down　at　the　table。　Surely　Mrs。　Seal　must　realize　
that　Mary　had　been　extraordinarily　efficient？　

“But　we　go　at　such　a　snail’s　pace；”　said　Sally；　shaking　
her　head　impatiently。　

At　this　Mary　burst　out　laughing；　and　all　her　arrogance　
was　dissipated。　

“You　can　afford　to　laugh；”　said　Sally；　with　another　shake　
of　her　head；　“but　I　can’t。　I’m　fiftyfive；　and　I　dare　say　I　
shall　be　in　my　grave　by　the　time　we　get　it—if　we　ever　do。”　

“Oh；　no；　you　won’t　be　in　your　grave；”　said　Mary；　kindly。　

“It’ll　be　such　a　great　day；”　said　Mrs。　Seal；　with　a　toss　of　
her　locks。　“A　great　day；　not　only　for　us；　but　for　civilization。　
That’s　what　I　feel；　you　know；　about　these　meetings。　
Each　one　of　them　is　a　step　onwards　in　the　great　march—　
humanity；　you　know。　We　do　want　the　people　after　us　to　
have　a　better　time　of　it—and　so　many　don’t　see　it。　I　
wonder　how　it　is　that　they　don’t　see　it？”　

She　was　carrying　plates　and　cups　from　the　cupboard　as　
she　spoke；　so　that　her　sentences　were　more　than　usually　
broken　apart。　Mary　could　not　help　looking　at　the　odd　
little　priestess　of　humanity　with　something　like　admiration。　
While　she　had　been　thinking　about　herself；　Mrs。　
Seal　had　thought　of　nothing　but　her　vision。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

“You　mustn’t　wear　yourself　out；　Sally；　if　you　want　to　
see　the　great　day；”　she　said；　rising　and　trying　to　take　a　
plate　of　biscuits　from　Mrs。　Seal’s　hands。　

“My　dear　child；　what　else　is　my　old　body　good　for？”　she　
exclaimed；　clinging　more　tightly　than　before　to　her　plate　
of　biscuits。　“Shouldn’t　I　be　proud　to　give　everything　I　
have　to　the　cause？—for　I’m　not　an　intelligence　like　you。　
There　were　domestic　circumstances—I’d　like　to　tell　you　
one　of　these　days—so　I　say　foolish　things。　I　lose　my　
head；　you　know。　You　don’t。　Mr。　Clacton　doesn’t。　It’s　a　
great　mistake；　to　lose　one’s　head。　But　my　heart’s　in　the　
right　place。　And　I’m　so　glad　Kit　has　a　big　dog；　for　I　didn’t　
think　her　looking　well。”　

They　had　their　tea；　and　went　over　many　of　the　points　
that　had　been　raised　in　the　mittee　rather　more　intimately　
than　had　been　possible　then；　and　they　all　felt　an　
agreeable　sense　of　being　in　some　way　behind　the　scenes；　
of　having　their　hands　upon　strings　which；　when　pulled；　
would　pletely　change　the　pageant　exhibited　daily　to　
those　who　read　the　newspapers。　Although　their　views　were　
very　different；　this　sense　united　them　and　made　them　

almost　cordial　in　their　manners　to　each　other。　

Mary；　however；　left　the　teaparty　rather　early；　desiring　
both　to　be　alone；　and　then　to　hear　some　music　at　the　
Queen’s　Hall。　She　fully　intended　to　use　her　loneliness　to　
think　out　her　position　with　regard　to　Ralph；　but　although　
she　walked　back　to　the　Strand　with　this　end　in　view；　she　
found　her　mind　unfortably　full　of　different　trains　of　
thought。　She　started　one　and　then　another。　They　seemed　
even　to　take　their　color　from　the　street　she　happened　to　
be　in。　Thus　the　vision　of　humanity　appeared　to　be　in　
some　way　connected　with　Bloomsbury；　and　faded　distinctly　
by　the　time　she　crossed　the　main　road；　then　a　
belated　organgrinder　in　Holborn　set　her　thoughts　dancing　
incongruously；　and　by　the　time　she　was　crossing　the　
great　misty　square　of　Lincoln’s　Inn　Fields；　she　was　cold　
and　depressed　again；　and　horribly　clearsighted。　The　dark　
removed　the　stimulus　of　human　panionship；　and　a　
tear　actually　slid　down　her　cheek；　acpanying　a　sudden　
conviction　within　her　that　she　loved　Ralph；　and　that　
he　didn’t　love　her。　All　dark　and　empty　now　was　the　path　
where　they　had　walked　that　morning；　and　the　sparrows　

145　



Night　and　Day　

silent　in　the　bare　trees。　But　the　lights　in　her　own　building　
soon　cheered　her；　all　these　different　states　of　mind　
were　submerged　in　the　deep　flood　of　desires；　thoughts；　
perceptions；　antagonisms；　which　washed　perpetually　at　
the　base　of　her　being；　to　rise　into　prominence　in　turn　
when　the　conditions　of　the　upper　world　were　favorable。　
She　put　off　the　hour　of　clear　thought　until　Christmas；　
saying　to　herself；　as　she　lit　her　fire；　that　it　is　impossible　
to　think　anything　out　in　London；　and；　no　doubt；　Ralph　
wouldn’t　e　at　Christmas；　and　she　would　take　long　
walks　into　the　heart　of　the　country；　and　decide　this　question　
and　all　the　others　that　puzzled　her。　Meanwhile；　she　
thought；　drawing　her　feet　up　on　to　the　fender；　life　was　
full　of　plexity；　life　was　a　thing　one　must　love　to　the　
last　fiber　of　it。　

She　had　sat　there　for　five　minutes　or　so；　and　her　thoughts　
had　had　time　to　grow　dim；　when　there　came　a　ring　at　her　
bell。　Her　eye　brightened；　she　felt　immediately　convinced　
that　Ralph　had　e　to　visit　her。　Accordingly；　she　waited　
a　moment　before　opening　the　door；　she　wanted　to　feel　
her　hands　secure　upon　the　reins　of　all　the　troublesome　

emotions　which　the　sight　of　Ralph　would　certainly　arouse。　
She　posed　herself　unnecessarily；　however；　for　she　had　
to　admit；　not　Ralph；　but　Katharine　and　William　Rodney。　
Her　first　impression　was　that　they　were　both　extremely　
well　dressed。　She　felt　herself　shabby　and　slovenly　beside　
them；　and　did　not　know　how　she　should　entertain　them；　
nor　could　she　guess　why　they　had　e。　She　had　heard　
nothing　of　their　engagement。　But　after　the　first　disappointment；　
she　was　pleased；　for　she　felt　instantly　that　
Katharine　was　a　personality；　and；　moreover；　she　need　not　
now　exercise　her　selfcontrol。　

“We　were　passing　and　saw　a　light　in　your　window；　so　we　
came　up；”　Katharine　explained；　standing　and　looking　very　
tall　and　distinguished　and　rather　absentminded。　

“We　have　been　to　see　some　pictures；”　said　William。　“Oh；　
dear；”　he　exclaimed；　looking　about　him；　“this　room　reminds　
me　of　one　of　the　worst　hours　in　my　existence—　
when　I　read　a　paper；　and　you　all　sat　round　and　jeered　at　
me。　Katharine　was　the　worst。　I　could　feel　her　gloating　over　
every　mistake　I　made。　Miss　Datchet　was　kind。　Miss　Datchet　
just　made　it　possible　for　me　to　get　through；　I　remember。”　

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Virginia　Woolf　

Sitting　down；　he　drew　off　his　light　yellow　gloves；　and　
began　slapping　his　knees　with　them。　His　vitality　was　pleasant；　
Mary　thought；　although　he　made　her　laugh。　The　very　
look　of　him　was　inclined　to　make　her　laugh。　His　rather　
prominent　eyes　passed　from　one　young　woman　to　the　
other；　and　his　lips　perpetually　formed　words　which　remained　
unspoken。　

“We　have　been　seeing　old　masters　at　the　Grafton　Gallery；”　
said　Katharine；　apparently　paying　no　attention　to　
William；　and　accepting　a　cigarette　which　Mary　offered　
her。　She　leant　back　in　her　chair；　and　the　smoke　which　
hung　about　her　face　seemed　to　withdraw　her　still　further　
from　the　others。　

“Would　you　believe　it；　Miss　Datchet；”　William　continued；　
“Katharine　doesn’t　like　Titian。　She　doesn’t　like　apricots；　
she　doesn’t　like　peaches；　she　doesn’t　like　green　peas。　
She　likes　the　Elgin　marbles；　and　gray　days　without　any　
sun。　She’s　a　typical　example　of　the　cold　northern　nature。　
I　e　from　Devonshire—”　

Had　they　been　quarreling；　Mary　wondered；　and　had　they；　
for　that　reason；　sought　refuge　in　her　room；　or　were　they　

engaged；　or　had　Katharine　just　refused　him？　She　was　
pletely　baffled。　

Katharine　now　reappeared　from　her　veil　of　smoke；　
knocked　the　ash　from　her　cigarette　into　the　fireplace；　
and　looked；　with　an　odd　expression　of　solicitude；　at　the　
irritable　man。　

“Perhaps；　Mary；”　she　said　tentatively；　“you　wouldn’t　mind　
giving　us　some　tea？　We　did　try　to　get　some；　but　the　shop　
was　so　crowded；　and　in　the　next　one　there　was　a　band　
playing；　and　most　of　the　pictures；　at　any　rate；　were　very　
dull；　whatever　you　may　say；　William。”　She　spoke　with　a　
kind　of　guarded　gentleness。　

Mary；　accordingly；　retired　to　make　preparations　in　the　
pantry。　

“What　in　the　world　are　they　after？”　she　asked　of　her　
own　reflection　in　the　little　lookingglass　which　hung　there。　
She　was　not　left　to　doubt　much　longer；　for；　on　ing　
back　into　the　sittingroom　with　the　teathings；　Katharine　
informed　her；　apparently　having　been　instructed　so　to　do　
by　William；　of　their　engagement。　

“William；”　she　said；　“thinks　that　perhaps　you　don’t　know。　

147　



Night　and　Day　

We　are　going　to　be　married。”　

Mary　found　herself　shaking　William’s　hand；　and　addressing　
her　congratulations　to　him；　as　if　Katharine　were　inaccessible；　
she　had；　indeed；　taken　hold　of　the　teakettle。　

“Let　me　see；”　Katharine　said；　“one　puts　hot　water　into　
the　cups　first；　doesn’t　one？　You　have　some　dodge　of　your　
own；　haven’t　you；　William；　about　making　tea？”　

Mary　was　half　inclined　to　suspect　that　this　was　said　in　
order　to　conceal　nervousness；　but　if　so；　the　concealment　
was　unusually　perfect。　Talk　of　marriage　was　dismissed。　
Katharine　might　have　been　seated　in　her　own　drawing
room；　controlling　a　situation　which　presented　no　sort　of　
difficulty　to　her　trained　mind。　Rather　to　her　surprise；　Mary　
found　herself　making　conversation　with　William　about　
old　Italian　pictures；　while　Katharine　poured　out　tea；　cut　
cake；　kept　William’s　plate　supplied；　without　joining　more　
than　was　necessary　in　the　conversation。　She　seemed　to　
have　taken　possession　of　Mary’s　room；　and　to　handle　the　
cups　as　if　they　belonged　to　her。　But　it　was　done　so　naturally　
that　it　bred　no　resentment　in　Mary；　on　the　contrary；　
she　found　herself　putting　her　hand　on　Katharine’s　knee；　

affectionately；　for　an　instant。　Was　there　something　maternal　
in　this　assumption　of　control？　And　thinking　of　
Katharine　as　one　who　would　soon　be　married；　these　maternal　
airs　filled　Mary’s　mind　with　a　new　tenderness；　and　
even　with　awe。　Katharine　seemed　very　much　older　and　
more　experienced　than　she　was。　

Meanwhile　Rodney　talked。　If　his　appearance　was　superficially　
against　him；　it　had　the　advantage　of　making　his　
solid　merits　something　of　a　surprise。　He　had　kept　notebooks；　
he　knew　a　great　deal　about　pictures。　He　could　pare　
different　examples　in　different　galleries；　and　his　authoritative　
answers　to　intelligent　questions　gained　not　a　
little；　Mary　felt；　from　the　smart　taps　which　he　dealt；　as　he　
delivered　them；　upon　the　lumps　of　coal。　She　was　impressed。　

“Your　tea；　William；”　said　Katharine　gently。　

He　paused；　gulped　it　down；　obediently；　and　continued。　

And　then　it　struck　Mary　that　Katharine；　in　the　shade　of　
her　broadbrimmed　hat；　and　in　the　midst　of　the　smoke；　
and　in　the　obscurity　of　her　character；　was；　perhaps；　smiling　
to　herself；　not　altogether　in　the　maternal　spirit。　What　
she　said　was　very　simple；　but　her　words；　even　“Your　tea；　

148　



Virginia　Woolf　

William；”　were　set　down　as　gently　and　cautiously　and　
exactly　as　the　feet　of　a　Persian　cat　stepping　among　China　
ornaments。　For　the　second　time　that　day　Mary　felt　herself　
baffled　by　something　inscrutable　in　the　character　of　a　
person　to　whom　she　felt　herself　much　attracted。　She　
thought　that　if　she　were　engaged　to　Katharine；　she；　too；　
would　find　herself　very　soon　using　those　fretful　questions　
with　which　William　evidently　teased　his　bride。　And　
yet　Katharine’s　voice　was　humble。　

“I　wonder　how　you　find　the　time　to　know　all　about　
pictures　as　well　as　books？”　she　asked。　

“How　do　I　find　the　time？”　William　answered；　delighted；　
Mary　guessed；　at　this　little　pliment。　“Why；　I　always　
travel　with　a　notebook。　And　I　ask　my　way　to　the　picture　
gallery　the　very　first　thing　in　the　morning。　And　then　I　
meet　men；　and　talk　to　them。　There’s　a　man　in　my　office　
who　knows　all　about　the　Flemish　school。　I　was　telling　
Miss　Datchet　about　the　Flemish　school。　I　picked　up　a　lot　
of　it　from　him—it’s　a　way　men　have—Gibbons；　his　name　
is。　You　must　meet　him。　We’ll　ask　him　to　lunch。　And　this　
not　caring　about　art；”　he　explained；　turning　to　Mary；　“it’s　

one　of　Katharine’s　poses；　Miss　Datchet。　Did　you　know　she　
posed？　She　pretends　that　she’s　never　read　Shakespeare。　
And　why　should　she　read　Shakespeare；　since　she　IS　
Shakespeare—Rosalind；　you　know；”　and　he　gave　his　queer　
little　chuckle。　Somehow　this　pliment　appeared　very　
oldfashioned　and　almost　in　bad　taste。　Mary　actually　felt　
herself　blush；　as　if　he　had　said　“the　sex”　or　“the　ladies。”　
Constrained；　perhaps；　by　nervousness；　Rodney　continued　
in　the　same　vein。　

“She　knows　enough—enough　for　all　decent　purposes。　
What　do　you　women　want　with　learning；　when　you　have　
so　much　else—everything；　I　should　say—everything。　
Leave　us　something；　eh；　Katharine？”　

“Leave　you　something？”　said　Katharine；　apparently　waking　
from　a　brown　study。　“I　was　thinking　we　must　be　going—”　

“Is　it　tonight　that　Lady　Ferrilby　dines　with　us？　No；　we　
mustn’t　be　late；”　said　Rodney；　rising。　“D’you　know　the　
Ferrilbys；　Miss　Datchet？　They　own　Trantem　Abbey；”　he　
added；　for　her　information；　as　she　looked　doubtful。　“And　
if　Katharine　makes　herself　very　charming　tonight；　
perhaps’ll　lend　it　to　us　for　the　honeymoon。”　

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Night　and　Day　

“I　agree　that　may　be　a　reason。　Otherwise　she’s　a　dull　
woman；”　said　Katharine。　“At　least；”　she　added；　as　if　to　
qualify　her　abruptness；　“I　find　it　difficult　to　talk　to　her。”　

“Because　you　expect　every　one　else　to　take　all　the　
trouble。　I’ve　seen　her　sit　silent　a　whole　evening；”　he　said；　
turning　to　Mary；　as　he　had　frequently　done　already。　“Don’t　
you　find　that；　too？　Sometimes　when　we’re　alone；　I’ve　
counted　the　time　on　my　watch”—here　he　took　out　a　large　
gold　watch；　and　tapped　the　glass—”the　time　between　
one　remark　and　the　next。　And　once　I　counted　ten　minutes　
and　twenty　seconds；　and　then；　if　you’ll　believe　me；　
she　only　said　‘Um！’”　

“I’m　sure　I’m　sorry；”　Katharine　apologized。　“I　know　it’s　
a　bad　habit；　but　then；　you　see；　at　home—”　

The　rest　of　her　excuse　was　cut　short；　so　far　as　Mary　was　
concerned；　by　the　closing　of　the　door。　She　fancied　she　
could　hear　William　finding　fresh　fault　on　the　stairs。　A　
moment　later；　the　doorbell　rang　again；　and　Katharine　
reappeared；　having　left　her　purse　on　a　chair。　She　soon　
found　it；　and　said；　pausing　for　a　moment　at　the　door；　and　
speaking　differently　as　they　were　alone：　

“I　think　being　engaged　is　very　bad　for　the　character。”　
She　shook　her　purse　in　her　hand　until　the　coins　jingled；　
as　if　she　alluded　merely　to　this　example　of　her　forgetfulness。　
But　the　remark　puzzled　Mary；　it　seemed　to　refer　to　
something　else；　and　her　manner　had　changed　so　strangely；　
now　that　William　was　out　of　hearing；　that　she　could　not　
help　looking　at　her　for　an　explanation。